Arabesque
by MissMelysse
Summary: (Originally written 8 July 2004; posted today by request. Was slightly AU then, is wildly AU now.) 4th fic after "Lapsang-Souchong," "Asphodel," and "Morning." Sometimes Severus watches Elise as she dances. Snape/OC. Oneshot.


_**Disclaimer:**_ _This entry is set in J.K. Rowling's_ _**Harry Potter**_ _universe, and any recognizable characters and places are her creations. No copyright infringement is intended, nor is any money being earned._

 _ **Arabesque**_ _is the fourth HP-fic I've written, and comes sometime after_ _ **Morning**_ _in the saga of Severus Snape and my original character Elise. There are minor spoilers for the entire series of novels, but the work should be considered to be part of an alternate universe._

* * *

 **Arabesque**

Sometimes, Severus watches me dance.

He never announces his presence, but then, he really doesn't have to. The force of his personality is such that even silent, he dominates the room.

Right now, for example, I can feel him watching me as I work at the barre.

His dark eyes follow every movement I make, as I lift my leg, and balance against the smooth, rounded wood. I close my eyes as I stretch, arching my body toward my bare, pointed toes. I've always wondered if he thinks my feet are ugly, what with the callouses and corns, but I've never asked. I never _will_ ask. It's just something to muse over, to help me stay focused.

As a teenager, visiting Hogwarts on breaks from my regular school in the States, I had two options for dance studios: either I'd pick one of the big chairs in the staff lounge and use it as a makeshift barre, or I'd go to the third floor, to the Room of Requirement, and try to convince it to give me a perfect copy of the studios I was accustomed to.

Every year, I got better and better at imagining the space, but I never quite got what I wanted.

But now, now that I've agreed to stay for the school year, I've claimed space of my own, choosing a long-disused classroom near the top of one of the towers.

It's a great room – huge arched windows, ancient old wrought-iron chandeliers, and a fireplace so big you could floo through it without having to duck. It helps, of course, that I'm an adult now, allowed to use magic to bend the room a bit - which is why there's a suspended wood floor, why the barre is set in front of one of the windows, and why there's music for whatever mood suits my whim.

Granted, it doesn't hurt to have Minerva McGonagall to help keep things working, either.

Severus is still staring, even when I've switched to the other leg. He is still watching when I'm finished with my stretching and am working on other barre routines: _Tendus_ , _battements_ , _ronds de jambe_ … legwork, still, but not really stretching.

I flick my eyes to the mirror on the opposite wall, and glimpse his expression. I smirk, but he gives no sign of noticing. "If you're going to come up here every time I work out," I call out, without stopping my exercise, "I'll draft you as a partner." There's a slight shuffling of his feet, the faint whisper of his robes moving, but no real reply. I imagine he's raised his eyebrow at me. "You wouldn't have to wear tights, or anything," I tease. "Not that they'd look bad on you."

I've often imagined him in the apprentice dancer's uniform of a white t-shirt and black tights.

He's lean and long, like the male dancers are, and more muscular than most people realize under his layers of swirling black. The image is so strong in my mind, that for a moment, I fail to realize he's moved in front of me.

"Why do you continually put yourself through this?" he asks, his voice a low growl that is nearly below my range of hearing.

"Muscles forget if you don't work them every day," I answer. It's the same line my first dance teacher used on my classmates and me, when I was a small child dreaming of tulle and tutus.

From anyone else, the question would be mockery. From Severus, it's natural curiosity. The only really physical activity in the wizarding world is Quidditch, after all, and even that is more skill than strength.

"An interesting notion," he allows. I smile, but let the expression fade, when he takes a breath, and continues speaking. "I've never been to the ballet," he shares. "I would like to have seen you dance."

I lose my focus and the music stops. "You're going away again, aren't you?" I phrase the question as a demand, and he nods his answer. "Tonight?" I ask.

"Tomorrow morning, early," he corrects. "The Headmaster will teach my classes. I'd like you to watch over Slytherin house for me." His tone is still soft, neutral. His eyes are flat. Students would say he looked cold, but I've learned better.

"You'll be gone long, then?" I ask, trying to mask my worry. He'd never have asked me to watch over Slytherin, if there wasn't something to worry about.

"I hope not," is his only answer. But it's enough. I can tell he's afraid, as he is always afraid, that this mission for the side of Light, will be his last. I don't ask, and he'll never admit it, but his eyes soften, and he holds me with his gaze. "I've a meeting," he tells me. "Elise…"

"Severus." We don't touch, but I make his name into a caress. "Later?" I ask. He inclines his head slightly. "My rooms?"

He shakes his head, and proves yet again that Severus Snape is a man of many surprises. "Here," he says. "You will dance for me."

I'm struck dumb, and can only nod. He reaches out to brush my cheek with a single finger, his touch feather-light. Then he turns, and strides out the door, robes spiraling around his ankles.

I watch the space where he was, until there's not a trace of movement, no lingering sound of boot heels on the stone floors.

* * *

 **Notes:** Originally written 8 July 2004. This was a year _before_ _**Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince**_ was released, which made it only slightly AU then. Subsequent books changed that. I'm reposting it today (14 January 2016) with slight revisions, at the request of my friend **Janet,** and in honor of the late **Alan Rickman** , who was so much more than just Severus Snape.

 _Arabesque_ was written to begin to shed some light on Elise's background. The sections of this story are being treated as stand-alone fics and not individual chapters, because there really is no coherent plot yet. Think of them as a series of interludes.


End file.
